#i drew them year[s] ago with the perfect brush setting and immediately forgot what that was an hour later and im still mad.

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[lillianfromaccounting]

Love at First Slice

author: lillianfromaccounting characters: Clint Barton x reader, Steve, Natasha, Sam, other avengers word count: 1915 warnings: none, fluff, fake dating trope

Summary: A mission in Central Park gives you the chance to pretend to be your crush’s girlfriend.

A/N: This is my submission to @sincerelysaraahh ‘s sweater weather challenge. Thank you so much for having me! My prompts were: Date: Have a picnic at the park. Prompt: "I don't see how that has anything to do with what we were talking about."

Love at First Slice “Just try to act like you like me when we get to the rendezvous point,” Clint whispered in your ear, draping his right arm around your shoulder. A large picnic basket dangled off his left hand.

“I got this,” you reassured him. You took his lead and wrapped one arm around him, leaning into his firm chest. His grey henley felt super soft against your cheek and smelled like fresh linens. You suddenly remembered seeing him in the laundry room last night. It’s been almost a year since you’ve moved into the tower and it seemed like you ran into Clint around every corner.

No--running into him would imply chance. You may or may not have changed your schedule slightly in order to increase the chances that you would pass him in the hall at certain times. Maybe you got up a little earlier now to get to the kitchen about three minutes before he usually sauntered in so that you could empty the coffee pot and brew a new one, buying you ten minutes to chat about everything and nothing. You might have opted for the Thursday night yoga class to free up your Tuesdays for pizza and movie night, where more times than not, it was just you and Clint on the couch, with Lucky at your feet.

The laundry room was by chance though. Your room just happened to be on the same floor and you couldn’t help who was doing laundry. Granted, you did notice every time Clint was there, and maybe you found an excuse or two to walk by several times last night. You tried to find enough dirty clothes for a load of wash so you could join him, but thought better of it since you had done that a few days ago already.

It was a silly crush, nothing more. It didn’t matter that every time you caught a glimpse of his crinkly eyes, butterflies turned your stomach. It didn’t matter that your mouth went dry every time his hand ran through that spiky blond hair of his. It didn’t matter that you temporarily forgot how to talk every time he called your name. None of it mattered because at the end of the day, he didn’t seem interested, so you resigned to willing the feelings away. But it was so harder said than done.

You tried not to be obvious. Clint was pretty laid back and probably didn’t notice the extra attention you were paying him anyway. It wasn’t like you were lavishing him with gifts of chocolate and flowers. You just made sure that there was plenty of coffee and stocked his favorite beer when it was your turn to grocery shop. He would order your favorite pizza toppings and made sure you were warm enough on the couch. It’s what was expected of people who share the same living space, right?

He always spotted you at the gym. You’ve learned not to ogle when watching him at practice, even though his arms were mesmerizing. Everyone talks about Thor’s stature, Steve’s chest, Sam’s thighs, and Bucky’s abs; Clint was just as stacked as the rest of them.

And you were reminded of that right now, as the two of you walked side by side down a paved path in Central Park, his arm firmly around you. It had been a very mild autumn thus far; normally, by this time, most of the trees would be bare, but you caught them just as the colors were coming in. The vibrant backdrop was an added bonus to this fake date.

You approached the rendezvous point and immediately spot the mark in a black suit with a black shirt and skinny black tie. He wiped his trembling hands against his pants before lighting a cigarette. He could have been the average businessman, taking a quick lunch in the park, but the black duffel bag on the bench gave him away.

“Honey, how about this spot?” Clint asked, drawing out the word honey. He stuck his chin out toward a grassy patch near some rocks about twenty feet behind the mark. It was a clear day and the lake behind the rocks reflected the cityscape.

“I don’t know, babe,” you protested, wanting a more direct view of the target. “Wouldn’t that spot by the tree there be better? There’s some shade.”

“No, the last time we sat there, there was an ant hill, remember?” he looked at you and winked, reminding you that Scott had already set up by that tree. “Besides, the direct sunlight would be perfect for all those selfies you like to take.” Another hint--the camera angles were probably better from here.

Clint set the basket down, pointing the hidden camera in the mark’s direction. You rolled out the red and white checkered blanket while he unpacked various containers of food.

If the intel was correct, that duffel bag contained a very dangerous weapon. While it would have been easy to apprehend the guy, the team was more interested in the buyer, and the best way to get them was to catch them in the act. The team was scattered all around the park, waiting for the trade to happen. Just to be safe though, Natasha was to switch out the bags before the buyer showed.

“I’m one minute out,” Natasha’s voice came over the comm.

That was Scott’s signal to release a powder in the air that would make the mark thirsty.

Sam rolled up a metal cart and called out, “Snow cones! Get your snow cones here! A dollar a piece!

“Excuse me, do you have blue raspberry?” a little boy asked.

“Blue raspberry, just for you! On the house!” Sam said, handing over a blue cone to the tot.

Sam rolled the cart just out of reach of the mark. “Sir, can I interest you in a refreshing snow cone on this unseasonably hot autumn day?”

The mark hesitated, quickly glancing at the duffel bag but at the same time, reaching up to loosen his tie. He looked at Sam’s cart and then got up from the bench, pulling his wallet out.

“That’s the spirit man,” Sam encouraged. “I’ve got the best stuff in the whole park. All organic ingredients, natural flavors, certified kosher and halal, gluten-free vegan. You won’t regret it.”

“Uh yeah, just uh--two rainbow ones,” the mark said, handing over two singles to Sam.

“Sure thing!” Sam said, taking his time to prepare the snow cones, watching Natasha switch the duffel bag in his periphery. “Here, two rainbows.”

By the time the mark sat back down on the bench, you and Clint were taking turns feeding each other pieces of cut fruit. You tried not to flinch every time your fingers brushed against his soft lips. He made a game of it, trying to eat each piece of fruit whole, occasionally nipping at your fingers.

“Mark two just entered the park,” Steve signaled over the comm. “Get ready.”

You scanned the park and saw another suit with Ray-bans approaching the bench.

Clint slid his arms around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. “I was thinking for tonight, pepperoni, peppers and mushrooms, Hawaiian, broccoli rabe. And two plains,” he whispered in your ear.

“Mmm,” you hummed. How did he manage to make pizza toppings sound sexy?

“Looks like he’s getting cold feet. Picnic, you’re up,” Steve said.

Clint jumped up and yelled, “I can’t believe you lost Lucky!”

You didn’t actually discuss what you were going to use as a distraction but you’ve improved enough of these scenes that it didn’t really matter. The point was to draw attention.

“Me?! You’re the one who took him off his leash!” you yelled back, willing tears to your eyes. You walked towards the bench, hoping to get both marks’ attention. “Lucky! Lucky! Here boy!” You paced around, pretending like you were looking for the lost dog, who was probably actually snoring beside the couch in the common room right now.

“Keep it up. Bystanders eyes are all on you now,” Steve said.

“We wouldn’t have lost him if you didn’t want to have this stupid picnic in the first place!” Clint spat, walking in the opposite direction. “Lucky! Here boy!” He whistled.

“Stupid?! It was your idea! Do you even remember what day today is? I bet you don’t even remember!”

“Of course I remember the anniversary of Lucky’s adoption from the pound! What kind of guy do you take me for? Lucky!”

Your voices were both getting hoarse from the yelling back and forth, but you knew it was working because you felt the stare of the audience around you.

“Targets acquired,” Steve said. You turned your head, quickly scanning the park. You saw Bucky and Natasha escorting Ray-bans out of the park, while Sam and Scott escorted bench guy out another exit.

“You—you do remember!” you gasped loudly, running towards Clint.

He braced himself for your tackle; you both fell over, landing serendipitously on the picnic blanket.

“I love you!” you blurted.

Clint brushed a piece of hair away from your face, sliding the back of his hand down your cheek.

The sea blue green of his eyes drew you closer to his face.

“We’ll meet you guys back at the tower,” Steve’s voice broke your focus.

“Um, we probably should head back,” Clint said, helping you up.

“Right,” you said. Your stomach dropped. Him not acknowledging your not quite fake declaration of love felt worse than outright rejection. You looked around and saw that most of the team was already gone. Whatever audience you had earlier had disbanded. “We should head back,” you said more to yourself than to Clint.

You cleaned up the picnic, putting the containers back into the basket and folding up the blanket, desperately fighting the swell of emotions bubbling in your chest. When you were done packing, Clint was in front of you, offering you a small bunch of wildflowers.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“For you,” he said, shoving them into your hands. “You like the purple ones.”

“Um, yeah,” you confirmed. “Thanks.”

He looked towards the ground and signed pizza.

“Pizza? I don't see how that has anything to do with what we were talking about,” you said.

With his pointer fingers up, he tapped his thumbs and fingertips together. Date.

Flowers. Pizza. Me. You. Date?

“Me? And you?” you asked.

“If—if you want,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

You reached over to lift his chin, looking into his eyes. He had his best signature Clint Barton poker face on, but you can tell he was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.

“Sounds like a solid idea,” you said.

He pulled you into his chest and touched his lips to yours, setting your whole body on fire. You felt the tension release from his shoulders when you kissed him back. He hungrily nipped and sucked at your lips, up your jaw and down your neck, and then crashing back to your lips. When you came up for air, you were on the park bench and you don’t remember how you two got there.

“Uh, if you two are done sucking face, please turn your comms off,” Tony’s voice rang in your ear. “Also, we’re waiting for you to get back to the tower so we can debrief. Not de--not like that. We need your reports. Paperwork. And get a room before you get arrested for public indecency.”